Five almost Perfect Dates
by unoriginal-elizabeth
Summary: Dasey, futurefic. "Your plan..." Derek said slowly, "...is a big box."
1. Chapter 1

NOTES: Okay...I'm a recent convert to the awesomeness that is LWD, and I'm sure I've made (insert depressingly high number of mistakes), so any criticisms or comments would be most welcome. Apart from that - this is a futurefic, with Derek and Casey in college. It's Dasey. And obviously (disclaimer time) I don't own LWD. Okay, on with the show!

* * *

During the third week of college, Casey met her dream guy. He was the kind of guy who held doors open for girls struggling with an armload of books (this was how they had met). He was the kind of guy who read the book before the exam, instead of renting the DVD (as a matter of fact, he read books even without the threat of an exam. For pleasure!). He knew that 'The Nutcracker' was a ballet, instead of a wrestling move (unlike certain people). He was tall, dark and...

"...perfect!" Casey finished.

"And why are you telling me this?" Derek asked, not looking up from their tiny television. He squinted at the minute people running wildly across the pitch, and tilted his head to the right. It didn't appear to help him decipher what was happening on the (very) small screen.

"Well," Casey crossed her arms, "since, for some bizarre reason, Emily and I are attending different colleges, while you and I are still forced to share the same living space, I have decided to make the best of things."

"You're going to bore me to death?" Derek said, hitting the volume button. "Good choice – my vital signs have dropped by at least thirty percent since you began that story. Seventeen hours ago."

"No," Casey marched to the television and turned it off. "I'm missing Emily," she continued, "and although I have met some girls who are great potential friend material, I haven't found anyone quite on my wavelength yet. I need someone to talk to, so..." she trailed off, and gestured towards Derek, palms up.

"Me?!"

"Just think of yourself as my...gal pal."

Derek finally looked at her. "I'm your 'gal pal'?" he asked in disdainful disbelief. "For the past two days, you've pretended I'm invisible, and now I'm your 'gal pal'?" He made sardonic air quotes around 'gal pal'. "Any particular reason for this revision of reality, Head-Case?"

Casey met his eyes without blushing. "No reason," she said, raising her chin. "There just comes a point in every feud where one party has to be the bigger person. Inevitably," she continued, glaring, "that person has to be me, since you don't have a conscience, or a sense of honour, or even basic human decency."

"Thank you, I do try," Derek said. He got off the saggy couch, and shouldered past Casey to turn the television on again. As the tiny, faceless crowd began to roar, she turned to leave.

"Though – a word of advice," Derek called after her, though his eyes never left the television screen, "If I'm like your new 'gal pals', I'd be worried that you're hanging with the wrong crowd."

* * *

DATE THE FIRST: THE MOVIE 

Outside the front door, the conversation went something like this:

"I had a really great time," James said.

"Me too," Casey smiled warmly. "I've wanted to see that movie for a while."

"I know – it really was inspirational, huh? I mean, not only did the guy track down his long lost brother, but he even found time to defend the sacred tribal land from those interlopers. That's what I call impressive."

"It was pretty amazing. I don't know why people said the movie was hard to follow. I mean, there were subtitles."

"I know. To be honest, I didn't really see the need for them. I mean, to anyone with a basic knowledge of Latin and ancient Sumatran, the subtitles are redundant."

Casey's jaw dropped slightly, but she quickly snapped it shut. "...Um, yeah," she managed.

They stood in silence for a moment, smiling awkwardly at one another.

"Well," he said finally, "I guess I'd better go. Good night, Casey." He reached out to touch her arm, before -

"No! Wait!" Casey said loudly. He turned back with a look of surprise on his face. "I- I mean, don't you want to come inside for a while?" she said, in a softer tone.

He paused. "Uh, Casey...I had a great time and everything, but don' t you think you might be rushing things?"

"I didn't mean – that," she closed her eyes briefly in mortification. "Just...wouldn't you like some coffee?" She smiled widely, invitingly.

"I don't really drink coffee. Sorry."

"Or tea!" she interrupted, almost before James could finish his excuse. "We have tea! You like tea, right?"

"I guess..."

"Oh, this is so perfect! And, while you're having your tea, you can meet Derek!"

"Who's Derek?" he asked."Nobody. Just my stepbrother," she said offhandedly, turning her key in the lock.

"Casey, don't you think it's a little early for me to be meeting your family?"

"Oh please! I don't think of Derek as family," she waved her hand dismissively in front of her. "Half the time, I barely think of him as human!" She opened the door and stepped inside.

"O-kay..." he said slowly, "...great." He pasted a smile on his face when Casey turned and beckoned him in.

In the kitchen, Casey turned the taps on full blast and banged the filled kettle down with such force that her date blinked. She opened several cupboards in search of teabags, then slammed them shut.

"Really, I'm fine. I don't need any tea – I mean, your brother might be asleep, and I wouldn't want to wake him up," he said.

"Step-brother," Casey corrected, cheerfully slamming two mugs onto the table. "And Derek's a total night owl. No way is he asleep at," she consulted her watch, "midnight on a Friday night."

Just then, the object of their conversation staggered into the kitchen, in t-shirt and boxers, hair sticking up wildly. He glared at Casey, who had the kettle in her hand.

"Okay, Klutzilla – it appears that, yet again, I have over-estimated you. Is it that hard for you to make a simple cup of coffee, without the dying water buffalo impression? I have practice tomorrow." At this point, he seemed to realise that Casey was not alone in the kitchen. His eyes darted between Casey and her date, and then narrowed.

"Oh, Derek," Casey said, oozing false sympathy, "I'm really sorry. I didn't realise a party animal like you would be asleep so early." She smiled sweetly. "But, since you're awake now, you might as well meet my date. James, this is Derek, my stepbrother. Derek, this is James, my date."

"Nice to meet you. Sorry about all the noise," James said, stretching out a hand for Derek to shake.

Derek looked down at his outstretched hand for a moment, smirking, before shaking it. "Hey, no problem. You get used to noise, living with Casey. I mean, her snoring alone..." he shook his head.

Casey glared.

Derek stared appraisingly at James, head cocked to one side. "You know, Case, he's not as short as you said he was."

"Der-ek!" she hissed, and turned to James. "He's just making a bad joke," she said quickly. "I never said you were short."

"No, that's right," Derek agreed. He leaned forward and stage whispered to James, "I think her exact term was 'midget-city'."

"Oh, like you can talk," Casey said, stepping forward.

"Um – Derek," James interrupted somewhat nervously, "you wouldn't happen to be Derek Venturi, the hockey player?"

"Why yes I am," he said, smiling broadly, then turned to Casey, "You know, there might be hope for him yet."

Fifteen minutes (and one mug of tea) later, and James was glancing at his watch and making apologetic excuses that Casey smilingly accepted. On their way out of the kitchen, she turned back. "Derek, aren't you going to walk our guest to the door? You don't want to be rude."

"I don't?" he said, but at Casey's violent look he rolled his eyes and padded towards the front door.

"Well, it was nice to meet you," James offered. Derek silently saluted, and James turned to Casey.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he said.

"I had a really great time tonight."

"Me too."

She smiled, then leaned forward slightly. With a hesitant half glance towards Derek, who showed no intention of moving, James moved forward and kissed Casey. Then, he quickly stepped back, and cleared his throat.

For a moment, Casey just blinked at him, before straightening up and smiling again, though not as widely as before.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," James said again, nodding awkwardly at Derek, before closing the door behind him.

There was silence for a moment, before Derek yawned loudly. "Well, I am going to bed. Though at least I shouldn't have any trouble sleeping after that little performance." He began walking towards his room, shaking his head and chuckling.

"What performance?" Casey demanded, trailing after him. "That was a perfectly acceptable first date kiss!"

Derek stopped, and turned. "Casey, that was not a good first date kiss. That wasn't even an interesting natural disaster. That was...dull."

"It was not!"

Derek raised his eyebrows.

"Okay," she surrendered. "So our first kiss didn't exactly shake the world. We're just...slow burners. When we get going...we are going to have some serious sparks."

Derek looked at her, and shook his head. "Casey, Casey, Casey," he said, "that's a nice fantasy, but, unfortunately, it comes down to chemistry. Without chemistry, there can be no sparks."

"We have chemistry!" Casey stopped for a moment. "Or – we will have," she corrected.

"Okay, lesson number one about chemistry," Derek said, holding up his index finger. "As a matter of fact, the only lesson you need to learn about chemistry – is that..." he paused for maximum emphasis, then leaned towards Casey, and whispered, "you can't manufacture it."

"Oh come on," she crossed her arms.

"Seriously. You've either got it," he flicked a thumb towards himself, "or...you don't," he turned his thumb downwards, and in Casey's direction. He shook his head pityingly.

"Yeah, well, it's really easy to stand back and pass judgement on things you obviously know nothing about," Casey said. She put on her most bored and superior expression.

"Is that a challenge?" Derek asked softly.

Despite her best efforts, the superior expression slid off Casey's face as she tried to backtrack. "What – no, Derek, I didn't" –

"Because if you're calling my expertise into question, it's my duty to defend myself," he continued, ignoring Casey's protests. He came closer, while she took two stumbling steps backwards, only to stop when she came in contact with the wall. She swallowed. It wasn't that Derek was looming over her (it wasn't even as if he had the physique to 'loom'), more...slouching very very close to her. It made her nervous.

"Derek," she stuttered, "whatever stupid thing you're thinking of doing, I want you to stop it right now, because" –

Not listening, Derek kept talking, looking straight at her. "You see, a first date kiss shouldn't be too tentative. I mean, by now, the guy knows he likes the girl. But it shouldn't be too heavy either – he doesn't want to scare her off by getting too intense. So, in my opinion, the kind of kiss that's called for in this situation is..."

He leaned forward the last few inches that separated them, and brushed his lips against Casey's. It was firm, and gentle, and Casey barely had time to think "Derek is kissing me," before it was over.

"The most important thing to remember is 'always leave her wanting more'" he said, smirking, as he swaggered towards his bedroom.

Groping for some words, Casey called after him, "Well, you're right about one thing. I do want more." Derek stopped, and Casey quickly added, "Of James."

Derek turned and looked at her. "You can't create something that isn't there."

"Watch me."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Oh wow - usually I write in the tiniest of fandoms, the kind where getting one review is a major achievement, and two makes me feel like John Grisham. Thanks so much to everyone who took the time to review (and who kindly refrained from pointing out the dodgy formatting that seems to dog me whenever I post to - fixed now). Um - once again, all comments and criticisms gratefully received, and...on to the next bit!

Disclaimer: I own nothing LWD...just having fun here.

* * *

PHONE CALL THE FIRST: EMILY

"He sounds great," Emily said encouragingly, then sighed. "You're so lucky. Three weeks in college and you've managed to meet the perfect guy. Meanwhile, I'm stuck here with a paper to finish and the room-mate from hell."

"She can't possibly be as bad as Derek."

"Yeah, well, I'm not in the habit of hating people I live with," Emily said, "It's all strange to me. At least you're used to Derek – it's not like he's got any new ways of messing with your head, right?"

"No. No. Nothing new," Casey agreed quickly, though the question was clearly rhetorical, since Emily kept talking –

"...finally found my shoes on the steps outside – and even though I've disinfected thoroughly, the weird smell is still there. Every time I think she can't do anything worse, she finds a way to surprise me. At least you're prepared for whatever Derek throws at you."

"That's me," Casey laughed weakly. "Always prepared."

* * *

DATE THE SECOND: THE LUNCH DATE 

The slam of the door made Derek poke his head out of the kitchen, and watch as Casey dropped her bag and divested herself of her coat with short sharp movements, muttering to herself all the while.

"So, no need to ask how the date with Mr. Perfect went," he called out.

Casey jumped. "Derek! I thought you were at practice."

"I was. A few hours ago."

"Oh," Casey was suddenly all smiles. "I didn't realise how late it was. Time just...flies...with James."

"So I take it date number two lived up to expectations," Derek said, too knowing and smug for it to be a proper question.

Casey brushed past him, and headed straight for the fridge, talking all the while. "It's amazing how much we have in common. We like all the same things; we have the same dreams, the same goals, the same aspirations..." She took out a carton of orange juice and poured herself a glass.

"Amazing," Derek agreed. "If only he were a woman, then you'd have everything in common."

Casey shot him an annoyed look as she drank.

"And how did the kissing part of the date go? Did your lips have the same dreams, the same goals, the same aspirations?" he mocked in a breathy voice.

"Yes," Casey said through gritted teeth, turning away as she rinsed her glass.

Derek examined her back critically for a few moments before continuing, seemingly casual. "Well, that's great."

"Yes, it is," she agreed, facing him again.

"Because, you know, after a first date fumble, it can be hard to recover. The second date kiss becomes crucial."

"Then it's a good thing James upped his game, isn't it?" she shot back.

"Good, good – great," Derek nodded, before abruptly changing tack. "Show me."

"What?"

"Oh, come on Casey – how long has it been? How can you still not know how this works? You seriously think I'm just going to believe whatever you say?"

"Since I'm obviously the most truthful person standing in this room right now, I don't see why not," Casey said.

"Noted," Derek conceded, "but you forget – as someone experienced in the art of deception, I can tell when someone else is lying."

"I'm not lying!" Casey said immediately.

Derek shook his head. "And I want to believe you. I really do. But appearances are against you. Think about it. You come back from your date, and you bang the door. You hang your coat – your new coat – on the hook nearest the door...my hook. The one you described as a 'dating ground for bacteria and germs'. Add in the fact that you're talking to yourself," he paused, "not that that's unusual for you per se, Space-Case – but this time neither of your personalities sound pleased."

He finished by holding up three fingers. "Three strikes add up to one big lie."

Casey shook her head pityingly. "I have depth, Derek. Just because you can't understand the workings of a complex personality doesn't mean I'm lying."

"Then show me," he challenged.

Casey looked at him for a second, before... "Fine."

Suddenly she found herself crowded against the sink, pinned in by Derek's arms on either side of her.

"Well then, let's get to it – I don't have all day," he said, from his new, uncomfortably close vantage point.

Casey blinked up at him, then quickly ducked under his arm. "Hey – I can show you, without... 'showing' you," she said. She took a step or two backwards. "It was kind of like..." she closed her eyes and puckered up to empty air.

When she opened her eyes, she found Derek staring at her, on the brink of laughter. "Okay – something is obviously wrong with his lips. Has he recently had a stroke?"

"Shut up Derek. Just because he doesn't try to swallow a girl whole – just because he has some decency and restraint, and respect for the female sex – unlike some people I could mention" –

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Derek said, moving one of his hands in time with Casey's outburst. "Respect, decency, restraint – whatever. Even you can't pretend that that," he contorted his lips and crossed his eyes, "is every girl's dream."

Casey stared at him defiantly, and opened her mouth in defence of James. She took a deep breath, then stopped, looking frustrated. Derek smirked, vindicated.

"Okay, I'd say what the situation calls for is some serious dumpage," he said, rubbing his hands together, apparently excited at the thought of inflicting pain upon another human being.

Casey narrowed her eyes. "No," she decided. "What this calls for, is a plan."

She turned on her heel and stalked to her bedroom, Derek, unfortunately, only a step behind.

"Go. Away. Derek," she said, very clearly and very slowly, before shutting the door in his face. His foot shot out immediately, however, preventing the door from closing.

"So, what's the plan?" he said.

"Why do you care?" Casey asked, going on the offensive.

"I take my responsibilities seriously," he said, in a voice dripping with sincerity, "and since you made me your 'gal pal', it's my duty to help you carry out your stupid plans." He paused, then said, as if he couldn't help it, "and then point and laugh at you when it all, inevitably, goes wrong."

"Well this plan is not going to go wrong," Casey said. "And, as is the case with so many other areas of my life, I don't need your help. And, unless you'd like a broken foot before your big game, I would advise you to move." Her smile was steely.

As the door closed in his face, the last thing Derek said was, "And I thought we were getting so close."

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Okay - again, I want to say thanks a million to everyone who reviewed - you all seriously made my day. Thanks! And once more, all comments and criticisms are welcome. I'm veryvery new to LWD so all mistakes are unintentional, and will be corrected a.s.a.p. Thank you! (Oh, and an especial thank you to Pink Jelly re: the summary)

Disclaimer: I really don't own LWD, and I don't have a problem admitting that.

* * *

PHONE CALL THE SECOND: NORA

"That's nice, Casey," Nora said, then, "Marti, you need to put that down."

Casey tried again. "Mom, did you hear what I said? I just told you that I met the perfect guy."

"And I said, 'That's nice, Casey,'" Nora said, then sighed. "No, Marti, dinner before dessert!"

Casey's outrage was audible even over the cries of, "No, dessert first!"

"'That's nice'?" she said. "'That's nice'? No, mom, it is not 'nice.'"

"Oh. It isn't? Cheese before the marshmallows!"

"No – it's amazing, or fantastic, or incredible. Not 'nice.'"

"Okay. That's...phenomenal, honey?"

"Better," Casey allowed.

"Well, at least have some cheese _with_ the marshmallows!" Nora called, then sighed. "I can't believe I just said that."

"As dating advice goes, it's pretty memorable."

Nora laughed. "You know, Casey, I remember meeting my perfect guy in college. Funny thing – his name actually was Guy." She made a happy sounding 'hmm' noise down the line and Casey sat up excitedly.

"What was he like?"

"Oh – perfect!" she could hear the smile in her mom's voice. "We would talk for hours. We used to go on these long walks – just going round and round in circles so we didn't have to say goodnight."

"Wow," Casey breathed, impressed. Then, more insistently, "And it all worked out, right, mom?"

There was a brief silence on the line, before the slightly confused reply –

"Casey, I married a completely different man. Two completely different men, as a matter of fact. Names have not been changed to protect the identities of those involved," she joked.

"I know you didn't marry him," Casey said impatiently, "but it worked out _for then_, right? Because perfect Guy was what you needed _then._"

"Well," Nora hedged, "actually, honey...he was a little bit too perfect. Kind of...boring."

"Boring?!"

"I ended up breaking up with him. He didn't take it very well..." At this point, Nora seemed to remember the starting point of their conversation, because she said hurriedly, "But I'm sure you don't have to worry about that! I'm sure _your_ guy isn't too perfect."

"There is no such thing as too perfect," Casey said. Forcefully.

* * *

DATE THE THIRD: THE 'CASEY SPECIAL' 

Casey frowned down at the two small candles in her hands.

"Lavender," she said slowly, holding one up, "or French Vanilla?" She held up the other.

Her gaze darted from one to the other, before she sighed, turned, and crammed both into a large box on her bed.

Just then, a distant, aggrieved shout broke the calm. "CASEY! Where did you hide the REMOTE?"

"So much for peace and quiet," Casey muttered to herself, before yelling back, "I didn't HIDE it, I TIDIED it!"

"Well where, neat freak, did you TIDY...it..." Derek began, as he burst into her room, only to settle on the box. "Are you moving out?"

"I wish," Casey replied. "Seriously," she waved at her room, "does it look like I'm moving out?"

"Then what are you doing with that?" Derek gestured to the box. "That thing has its own gravitational orbit."

"This," Casey said, running a hand along one edge, "is my plan."

"Your plan," Derek said slowly, "is a big box."

"Not the box," she said. "What's inside the box."

Derek picked up one of the scented candles, sniffed it, and made a face. Casey snatched it off him and replaced it carefully on top of –

"A tablecloth? And some candles," he said, flatly. "This is your plan. That's it? I expected more from you, Casey. I expected something _amusingly_ stupid."

"It's a picnic," she said, narrowing her eyes.

"A picnic? You think a picnic is going to solve all your problems with Boo-Boo, Yogi?" Derek began to laugh.

Casey stared at him in silence, a small smile on her face. The laughter died down, and Derek straightened up, eyeing her warily.

"Oh, but this is no ordinary picnic," she said. "This – is a Casey Special."

Derek frowned.

"You see, I figured out what the problem was."

"Oh, enlighten me. Please."

"Romance," Casey confided, leaning forward slightly. "I mean, a movie about a guy defending the rights of a noble tribe while racing against time to find his dying brother? A crowded cafe with people yelling about 'the specials'? What's romantic about that?"

She took a satisfied breath. "But when James picks me up" – she consulted her watch, "which should be any minute now – and we go back to his place for a surprise picnic featuring...soft lighting, good food and atmospheric music," she gestured to the candles, CD player and variously wrapped bundles, "not to mention me..."

She motioned towards her face – the sparkly blue eyeshadow, the carefully applied blush...and Derek shrugged, apparently unmoved. Exasperated, she unzipped her stripy cardigan to reveal the far more suitable date top underneath. His eyes narrowed and Casey's fingers twitched with satisfaction.

"Casey plus James plus picnic," she said, "equals Romance. Please note the capital 'R'."

She smiled smugly, and couldn't resist a needling, "So? What do you think?"

Derek was completely still for a few moments, and Casey's smile grew wider. Then...

"I think," he began slowly, "that you've forgotten one very important thing."

"Oh yeah?" Casey asked disbelievingly, crossing her arms, "and what would that be?"

In response, he lunged past her. Casey turned, only to find him brandishing a small tube.

"Lipgloss," he said with relish.

Casey pressed her lips together, only to find it was true.

"Give it back, Derek," she said, holding out her hand.

He considered. "Mmmnnnno."

"Fine," Casey said. "I have more than one lipgloss. I'll just...choose a different one." She turned to her makeup bag.

"Oh, but you always wear this one on special dates. It goes so perfectly with your eyeshadow," Derek said, obviously mimicking Casey's past words. "And don't you want tonight to be perfect?"

Casey visibly controlled herself. "Tonight is going to be wonderful no matter what shade of lipgloss I wear," she said tightly. "As a matter of fact, I'm not even going to put on lipgloss." She gazed challengingly at Derek.

"What? Little Miss Control Freak won't have a problem with things not being completely and utterly as she planned?" he asked.

"It's not going to bother me," Casey said, eyes straying to the tube of lipgloss in Derek's hand.

"Not even a little?"

"No."

Derek eyed Casey consideringly, then changed tack. "Maybe not now," he granted. "But think of it – the food...the music...the candles...it's all going so well...Mr. Perfect turns to you, and you know you should be thinking about how magical everything is, but" - his eyes widened in mock alarm, "something's wrong! Something's missing! It's spoiling the perfection of the moment! You can't be expected to go on under these conditions!"

Casey grabbed for the lipgloss, but Derek avoided her easily.

"I need that lipgloss," she said threateningly, and attempted to smack it out of his hand.

"Give it to me!" she said, grappling fruitlessly with him.

"Okay," he said, and straightened.

"I mean it, Derek!" Casey demanded, still pulling at his arm, before his words caught up with her. "Wait, what?"

"I said okay," he said, casually.

Casey straightened slowly, suspiciously.

"Fine," she said, and held out her hand.

Derek ignored this.

She frowned. "I thought you were going to give me my lipgloss."

"As your 'gal pal', I feel...kind of guilty," Derek said, in a voice that was anything but. "I mean, I should be helping you prepare for your big disappointment – sorry, date."

"So give me my lipgloss," she said.

"Close your eyes."

"What are you going to do?" she asked, with faint alarm.

"Close your eyes," he repeated.

Casey's gaze flicked from the lipgloss to Derek's unreadable face. "Oh no," she said. "How crazy do you think I am? I am not letting you draw on my face with lipgloss." Her body tensed, preparing for a quick getaway.

"The way I see it," he said reasonably, "you don't really have a lot of options." He untwisted the top of the lipgloss. "You want your lipgloss. James will be here any minute. And here I am, generously offering to help you" –

"So hand over my lipgloss already!" Casey almost shouted.

"Okay, look at it this way. The lipgloss goes on your face...or the lipgloss goes on your clothes. Your choice," Derek shrugged.

Casey made a sudden move towards the door, only to find herself blocked. She looked wildly around the room for possible exits, but found none. She looked back at Derek, who held up her lipgloss and smiled. Widely.

"Fine!" she surrendered. "Just – don't use it all up drawing a moustache on me." She sighed, then shut her eyes tightly.

"At least this one will wipe right off. Not like last time," Derek said helpfully, reminding Casey of Marti and her indelible markers.

"Why are you doing this?" she demanded, opening her eyes again, and looking straight at Derek, who looked slightly surprised at the question.

"Just," he cleared his throat, "just think of it as one of those 'gal pal' things."

She didn't close her eyes again, but watched Derek as he held up the lip-brush. She resigned herself to redoing her makeup, but to her surprise the brush actually landed on her lips. Derek looked...intent, concentrating, and Casey's lips tingled as he moved the brush slowly. It felt like a long time had passed before he finally stepped back, and said, without looking at her, "Well. You're ready."

"Okay," Casey said, in a slightly unsteady voice. She pressed her lips together hard, but they still tingled slightly.

Derek stepped forward and Casey's eyes snapped up to meet his. She felt something being pressed into her hand, and looked down blankly at the tube of lipgloss. She looked up again, and Derek was smirking – nothing new there, but the expression wasn't quite right, and he hadn't moved away.

Casey opened her mouth – only to start at the sound of the doorbell.

"I guess that's Mr. Perfect," Derek said, not looking away from her. "I should be a good 'gal pal' and let him in, huh?"

Casey managed to nod. There was a moment's pause, and then, with a last indecipherable glance at her, Derek walked out the door.

"O-kay," she said to herself, and shook her head. "Okay. Okay," she repeated, trying out different tones. "You can do this, Casey. Picnic. Picnic! Box!"

She turned to pick up the box, only to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She blinked at her reflection. "Okay. But first...that lipgloss is way too dark," she said, grabbing a tissue.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

Okay - chapter 4! Thanks to all who reviewed!

Disclaimer: LWD not mine.

* * *

In the French Vanilla scented flickering glow, James stretched out with a sigh of contentment.

"Casey – that was amazing."

"I know – I mean, thanks!" she replied.

James put his hands behind his head and smiled.

"So," Casey said casually, "how would you rate this?"

"Um...rate?"

"As in...romantically. Out of ten, how many marks would you give this date?"

"I don't know...an eight?"

"An eight?" Casey repeated. "That's good, right?"

"Oh, yeah!" he hastily agreed.

"Great! An eight!"

"Yeah – it even makes a little rhyme!"

"Yeah..." Casey drummed her fingers against the picnic box.

"So," she said, changing tone, "Why did you dock two points?"

"Uh – I" –

"I'm not mad – I just...really want to know."

James squinted in thought. Casey nodded encouragingly.

"I guess...even though this is great and everything...it feels a little – forced? Like, maybe it could be a little more spontaneous. Just, you know...let things happen?"

"Spontaneous," Casey muttered, turning away and scribbling furiously. She turned back to him with a practised smile. "Thank you so much for your comments. I really appreciate them, and I want you to know that your suggestions have been noted, and will be worked on. When I plan our next date, it will be totally spontaneous."

"Uh...thanks. Casey, did you just write down what I said?"

"Purely for research purposes. I promise not to reveal any relevant information to third parties."

* * *

"Be more spontaneous!" Casey called out as she opened the door. "Can you believe that he told me that I needed to be more spontaneous? Not that our date wasn't completely perfect," she added hurriedly, "but...who are you?" 

"Hi," the blonde on the couch waved, as Derek came out of the kitchen, a bowl of popcorn in his hands.

"Great, you two have met," he said, walking past Casey, and depositing the bowl on the table in front of the couch.

"No, actually, we haven't," she said, pulling off her scarf and hanging it up with unnecessary venom.

"Sweetie, you forgot the drinks," the blonde girl interrupted, apparently unbothered by the lack of introductions.

"Sorry uh - Snookums," Derek drawled, "Would you mind getting them?"

"Of course not," she smiled, and bounced into the kitchen as Casey mouthed 'Snookums?' disbelievingly at him.

"Who is she?" Casey hissed, as soon as she was out of hearing range.

"Unlike you, I have chemistry with lots of people," Derek said. "_She_ is one of those people."

Casey stared at him.

"But – since you have Perfect James, that shouldn't bother you, or anything, right?"

"...of course not," she said, and swallowed.

"Here we go," the blonde girl said, walking between Casey and Derek with two filled glasses. She carefully placed them on the table, then plopped down onto the couch.

"Great," Derek said, holding Casey's gaze. "Casey was just going to her room. Weren't you, Case?"

She stared back.

"Yeah," she said slowly, and walked past him.

* * *

DATE THE FOURTH: THE CIRCUS 

"Don't ask!" Casey warned, as Derek opened the door.

He took in the spectacle of a dirty, bedraggled, damp Casey on the doorstep.

"It's like all my birthday presents rolled into one," he said, entranced.

"Move, or your new shirt gets it," she threatened, holding up a grimy hand. Derek stood back and held out both hands in a 'feel free to enter' gesture. Casey squelched past him and into the kitchen.

Derek trailed after her.

Casey pulled off her now-brown denim jacket, and began wringing it out viciously over the sink. "This is why I hate spontaneity."

"One question - are those bitemarks?"

"The llama," Casey began, then stopped. "Don't ask!" She filled the sink with water.

"'This could be more spontaneous,' he tells me," she muttered to herself, grabbing a bar of soap and attacking the stains on her jacket. "But is he happy when the monkey swallows my keys and we fall in the llama enclosure and" –

She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned. "What" – she began in irritation, only to stop when Derek slid his arms around her waist and kissed her.

For a moment, she froze, before throwing her arms around his shoulders and kissing back.

This time, it wasn't a fleeting brush of lips – more a lengthy, breathless jostle of bodies and mouths, as Derek pushed her, and she, finally, pushed back.

Eventually, he pulled back, and Casey blinked at the grimy handprints on his shirt, unable to meet his eyes.

"Now that," he said, almost nonchalant, except for the way he had to catch his breath, "is spontaneity."

Casey licked her lips nervously. "Okay," she agreed. "Well – I'm kind of tired. Good night!"

She quickly marched into her room.

"So, you're really not going to talk about this?" Derek said in disbelief, as he followed her.

"Talk about what?" Casey asked. "What's there to talk about? Could you close the door when you leave? And could you leave now?"

She absently fluffed her pillow, slowly changing the colour from pristine white, to grubby brown.

Derek shook his head. "For the first time in world history, Casey MacDonald doesn't want to talk about something. Something is seriously wrong."

He patted up and down his chest, miming confusion. "You know, you think I would have noticed if we had swapped bodies," he said, then rolled his eyes. "How about we talk about the fact that our lips have met. More than once."

Casey looked blankly at him. "It's just a phase. I'm sure we'll grow out of it."

"'We'll grow out of it'," he repeated slowly. "And you're supposed to be the smart one?"

"Why are you making such a big deal about this?" Casey asked, avoiding his gaze.

"Why are you pretending it isn't happening?" he countered. "The first time it happens, you ignore me for two days – then you come up with some stupid story where I'm your 'gal pal' and you've met the guy of your dreams. But you still kiss me, and when I have a date, you interrupt us every five minutes."

"I was really thirsty," Casey defended. "And why do you care, anyway?"

"I don't," he said quickly. "I just can't believe that you don't."

"Well, I don't!" she said.

"Well, I don't either!"

"Fine!"

"Yeah. Fine," Derek said, and walked out.

Casey jumped as the door slammed shut. "Fine," she said quietly, and looked down in confusion at the filthy pillow in her hands.


	5. Chapter 5

I have to say, I am having a total blast writing this - the LWD sandpit is a really great place to play. Thank you to all the lovely reviewers who have made me feel so welcome.

* * *

PHONE CALL THE FOURTH: LIZZIE (WITH OCCASIONAL EDWIN)

"I just don't understand it," she moaned to Lizzie, lying on her bed with her head hanging over the end.

"Maybe you're thinking too much," Lizzie offered.

Casey rolled over onto her stomach. "But it's not the thinking part that's the problem – we can talk about anything! It's just the – other part."

"As disgusting as I find this conversation," a voice broke in, "I have a proposition for you, Casey."

"Edwin? Are you eavesdropping?" Casey's voice raised in indignation.

"Hear me out. I have recently acquired a chemistry set. For a...modest fee, I will analyse samples of hair and nails from you and your boyfriend, and find the reason behind this upsetting situation. The answer is always in the genes, you know."

"Lizzie," Casey began.

"Don't worry, I'm already on it." A moment later, Casey heard an immensely gratifying

"OW! Lizzie – stop hitting me!"

"Sorry, what were you saying?" Lizzie asked politely (and slightly breathlessly) ten seconds later.

Casey sighed. "I don't know," she said.

"Well, are you going to see him again?"

"Yeah. Tonight."

Lizzie ventured cautiously, "Casey, you've only known this guy for what, a week? And you've given it your best shot. Don't you think it might be time to...let him go?"

"No! I can't do that!" she said wildly.

There was a silence on the other end of the line, before Lizzie said, "Wow. You must really like him."

* * *

DATE (AND PHONE CALL) THE FIFTH: JUST HANGING OUT (WITH FREQUENT PAUL)

"Hello?"

"Paul! I am so glad you picked up," Casey whispered. "I kept thinking, what if Paul isn't in? Or, what if Paul's wife answers and asks if she can take a message and I have to explain and" –

"Casey?" Paul sounded surprised. "Why are you whispering?"

He thought for a second. "Why are you even calling me – since I'm no longer your guidance counsellor?"

He thought again. "Wait a minute – how did you even get this number?"

"I'm whispering because I'm in James' bathroom," Casey began. "And I may have finished high-school, but isn't it a little short-sighted of you to assume that I don't need any more guidance? I am totally in need of guidance here!" Her voice began to raise towards the end of the sentence, and there was a knock at the door.

"Casey, are you okay in there?"

"Fine! Fine! Out in a minute!"

"And my phone number?" Paul asked again, ignoring Casey's asides.

"I'm sorry – I promised not to reveal my sources," she said apologetically.

"This isn't going to go away, is it?" he asked, resignedly.

"I am in serious need of help," was Casey's answer.

"I have never agreed more with that statement," Paul said dryly, then sighed. "Okay, let's hear it."

"I...don't know where to start," she said.

He took a deep breath. "Why don't we start with – who is James, and why are you hiding in his bathroom?"

"Okay," Casey said. "James is my boyfriend, and I'm hiding in his bathroom because we're on a date."

"Why?"

"Why are we on a date? Well, because that's what boyfriends and girlfriends usually do."

"No – why are you hiding?"

"Because – because...I don't know!" Casey wailed quietly. "I shouldn't be hiding – I mean, James is perfect for me. Everything is perfect! We talk, we laugh...well, sometimes – and he saved me from the llamas. We should be great together!"

"Well, Casey," Paul began, then stopped. "Llamas?"

"Don't ask," she said.

"You're right, sorry, that's not the problem," he said. "Let's try that again. Well, Casey, sometimes things just don't work out with certain people. It's not anyone's fault...it's just"–

"Chemistry?" Casey offered, bitterly.

"Yeah –chemistry," Paul said, missing her tone. "It doesn't mean you're a bad person. Or that James is a bad person. It just means that you're not right for each other."

"But I need this to work out!"

"Why?" Paul asked.

"Because..." Casey flailed, "He's..."

"Perfect?"

"Yeah," her voice was grateful.

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why is he perfect for you? What is it about him that makes you think he's perfect for you?"

"I...he...he just – is!"

"Casey – why do you need this to work out?" he asked softly.

"Because if it doesn't, I'm going to make a mistake. The biggest mistake of my life! I'm already making it," Casey burst out.

"Okay," Paul said, with a slight tinge of satisfaction in his voice. He softened. "Casey, everyone makes mistakes. It's natural, normal. No-one goes through life without making a few mistakes. Even you."

"I know. I just...don't want to make this one. It's going to mess everything up!"

"Probably," Paul agreed.

"What?"

"I said, 'Probably,'" he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "But sometimes, you need to make mistakes. Even if they mess everything up. And you know something, Casey?"

"What?" she asked.

"Mistakes can be fun, too. I mean, I've made some pretty big messes in my time...and I'd be lying if I said I didn't regret one or two of them, but the rest..." he trailed off. "I wouldn't trade them for anything."

"This mistake could be really bad," she warned him.

"Can I ask, what's his name?" he asked.

"How did you...I mean, it's not that kind of mistake," Casey said, unconvincingly.

"Just tell me one thing," Paul said. "You don't have to mention names, but...he wouldn't happen to be the exact opposite of James, would he?"

Casey sighed. "He's completely wrong for me. I mean" –

"Damn, I am _good_," Paul said, almost to himself.

"It's never going to work out," she said. "I don't even know if either of us would want it to. If we try and fail, it's going to complicate an already complicated situation. And I just can't imagine it...working."

"It probably won't," Paul agreed. "Lots of relationships don't."

"So I should just completely forget about it? Okay. Okay. I can do that. As a matter of fact, I have made out some preliminary notes on how I might go about that" –

"Casey," Paul said softly. "You know those mistakes –the big ones that I said I regretted?"

"Yeah?"

"They're still important. They made me who I am today. Sometimes, we need to make mistakes. Even if we think we know what's going to happen."

Casey swallowed.

"Hadn't you better get back to your date?" Paul reminded her gently.

"I guess," she said.

"And...Casey?"

"Yeah?"

"You do know that not everyone gets this kind of service from me?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling. "Thanks."

She slipped the phone into her pocket, straightened her shoulders and walked out of the bathroom. A very worried looking James stopped pacing and said, "Casey, are you okay? You were in there an awfully long time - and I could hear you...talking to yourself...?"

"James," she said, and took a deep breath. "We need to talk."


	6. Chapter 6

Almost there! Many thanks again to all reviewers.

Disclaimer: LWD is so completely not mine.

* * *

PHONE CALL THE SIXTH: GEORGE

Casey could hear the phone ringing as she fumbled with her keys. "Don't hang up, don't hang up, don't hang up," she muttered, as she jiggled the key in the lock and pushed the door open. She ran for the phone, and gasped out –

"Hello?"

"Oh hey Casey!" George answered. "I was just calling to wish Derek good luck for the game tomorrow."

"I don't think he's here - but just let me check," she said. "DEREK! GEORGE IS ON THE PHONE...No, sorry."

"Uh...thanks, Casey," George said, in a tone that suggested his ears had borne the brunt of the yelling. "So," he brightened, "What's this Nora tells me?"

"About...?" Casey asked, hoping against hope that George wouldn't say –

"You know," he said, in a teasing 'girls' talk' voice that she found deeply disturbing, "about you finding Mr. Right."

"Oh. Yeah. About that," she began reluctantly, only to be cut off by –

"I know exactly what you mean, Casey. I remember when I was in college, there was this girl..."

"And she was perfect for you?" Casey said, wearily.

"Perfect? I'll never forget her. Noelle..." George said dreamily, then, coming back down to earth. "Or was it Jane?"

She sighed.

"No, no, it was definitely Noelle. Unless it was Jennifer...Anyway" –

"You'll never forget her," Casey interrupted.

"Yeah."

"Well, James and I broke up this evening, so" –

"Who's James?" George asked.

"He was - you know what? Nevermind," Casey said, then pricked her ears up as she heard the front door open and close. "George, I'm going to have to say goodbye now"–

"Is that Derek? Could you put him on for a second – I want to wish him" –

Casey hung up the phone and hurried out of the kitchen.

"Derek," she said.

The object of her regard ignored her in favour of slinging his bag into the corner by the door.

Casey took a deep breath and said those three terrible words: "You were right."

She stopped. "I feel nauseous just saying that."

With a look of interest, Derek straightened. He held out his hands in a 'please go on' gesture.

"We need to talk," Casey continued.

Abruptly, his hands dropped. "No, we don't," he disagreed, and walked past her.

"Um...excuse me?" she said, following him.

He turned. "I'm sorry, Case, do you need me to speak slower...or use smaller words? Are there smaller words I could use? Because that seemed kind of self explanatory to me."

"Wait a minute – do you not remember our fight yesterday?"

"Vaguely."

"Where you - _you_ - Derek Venturi, Mr. Why Use Conversation When a Simple Grunt or Body Function Will Do, insisted that we needed to talk."

Derek shook his head pityingly. "I think your memory is playing tricks on you, Casey. I did not _insist_ that we needed to talk."

Casey stared at him.

"There might have been a brief period – a _very_ brief period," he qualified, "where I...might...have mentioned something about...possibly talking. What can I say – it was a slow day...I was bored. But that's not a problem for me anymore."

Casey's jaw dropped. "Are you really this petty?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

Casey paused for a moment, working out the best angle of attack. "Gee, Derek, if I didn't know better, I'd say your feelings were hurt," she said, with raised eyebrows.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he objected. "I don't _do_ feelings."

"I know," Casey rolled her eyes. "Derek Venturi does not _do_ human emotions. Or logical thought. Or rational conversation. We're going to talk anyway."

"Uh, no, we're not."

"Oh no, no, no," she said. "I am fully committed to making this mistake. I did not break up with James just so that you could back out now."

"So, the two of you finally broke up," Derek said in satisfaction. "What a shame." He shook his head in mock disappointment.

Casey ignored the bait. "Paul helped me to see that" –

"Paul who?" he asked, only to answer his question with an incredulous, "Paul _Creepy_, the guidance counsellor? You still _talk_ to him?"

He paused for a moment. "Sorry – I'm a little off my game tonight. Let me rephrase that. He still speaks to _you_?"

"Derek" –

"Well, sorry to loathe you and leave you, but the guys should be picking me up for our pre-game meal any second, so..."

"Oh, you think you're going out for a pre-game meal," Casey said, the tone of her voice broadcasting 'isn't that cute?'

"And why wouldn't I?" Derek asked.

"No reason," Casey shrugged, "Just...aren't you forgetting something important?"

Derek's eyes narrowed. "And what would that be?"

Casey took a few steps to the left, to where the basket of just-dried clothes sat on top of the couch. She pulled out... "Your lucky pre-game shirt?"

Derek looked consideringly at the green shirt in her hands. "Give it to me," he said, finally.

"No."

"Casey, I want my shirt back."

"And I don't want to give it back. Hmmm, I think we might have a slight problem, here."

"Casey..." Derek began in a reasonable tone, only to suddenly charge at her. However, she dodged and managed to keep a safe distance. They paced around the couch, watching each other warily.

"Give me my shirt," he said again.

"Okay," Casey agreed. "Close your eyes and hold out your hands."

He looked at her with an almost amused expression. "Am I supposed to back down, here?"

"No," she said. "You're supposed to close your eyes, and hold out your hands."

A long moment later, and Derek did just that.

"No looking," Casey warned, as she cautiously came closer.

"Like I'd want to," he replied, but she noticed his lips were already parted.

Carefully, she reached out, stretched up a little, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, then to his cheek, then to the side of his mouth. Derek turned his head slightly at the last, so her next kiss fell squarely on his lips. This kiss was...almost solemn, and strangely tender, and when Casey moved back, she saw that Derek's eyes were still closed. She pressed the shirt into his hands, as wave of some weird feeling rose up in her, and she almost turned away when he finally opened his eyes.

But she held her ground, and looked straight back at him. "We are so going to talk when you get back," she said softly.

"And what makes you think that?" he asked, just as quietly.

"Because we both know that you don't have a lucky pre-game shirt," she said simply.

A car horn beeped impatiently outside, and someone began banging at the door, and yelling, "Come on Venturi, open up!"

"I'll just get that, will I?" Casey asked, as Derek just stared at her.

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

Um...the end? I can't believe this is it. I'm actually a bit apprehensive about posting this - I'm afraid everyone will think it's an anticlimax! Chapter 6 was actually meant to be the end, but the last part...grew. Well - just before signing off, I want to say that I had an absolute blast writing this - and to say thank you to everyone who reviewed - your comments really motivated me to finish (otherwise I think I would have slacked off!). I'm looking forward to reading a lot more LWD - and thanks again to everyone for the lovely welcome!

* * *

As soon as the lights came on, Casey was ready. "We have to talk," she said, sitting bolt upright on the couch. The two guys in the doorway froze.

"Venturi!" someone yelped, "There's a girl living on your couch!" Casey rolled her eyes as she recognised Brian Johnson and Carl Smith, two of Derek's team-mates.

"Relax, Johnson, that's not a girl. That's Casey," Derek said, pushing past with a vague disdainful gesture at the couch.

"She looks like a girl to me," Carl said. "Hey, can I have her when you're done?"

Derek made a revolted face, as Casey got up and padded towards them. "Well Carl, Brian, as always, it's been an – experience. Now go away. I need to talk to Derek."

The two boys blinked at her, as Casey made encouraging scooshing gestures with her hands. They didn't move. Finally Casey sighed, closed her eyes, and summoned a memory of Derek, grape jelly and a brand new sweater. "GET. OUT!"

"So, Venturi...we'll see you tomorrow," Carl said, hastily backing out the door. Brian was already halfway to the car.

Derek held out a hand in goodbye, before shutting the door and turning to Casey.

She faced him head on. "I know what you're doing, you know," she said. "And it's not going to work."

"What's not going to work?" he asked.

"This whole 'talk to me...no, wait, don't' thing."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, but Casey thought she could see the hint of a smirk.

She stared him down. "I get it. I wasn't ready to do exactly what you wanted, when you wanted it, so now, this is your idea of payback. You have some bizarre idea that this," she made a circular gesture that was probably meant to suggest Derek's behaviour, "gives you the upper hand in this situation."

Derek's expression told her all she needed to know. She sighed. "Why do you have to play these sick and twisted mind games with girls?"

"Because I'm good at them?" he offered.

"That's what you think. Well, I'm not playing," she said, seriously. "I am not going to be one of those girls who follow you around, performing for your approval. My offer to talk, stands. Right now."

Derek stared at her challengingly, and Casey shifted uncomfortably. "Like I'm the only one."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Answer me this, Casey," he began, "When you decide you want to talk, suddenly I'm playing 'mind games.' But when you're avoiding the issue and kissing me behind your boyfriend's back – not that I blame you for that, by the way," (he preened, momentarily) "what's that? Fine, upstanding moral behaviour?"

Casey considered this in silence for a moment. "Okay," she said finally. "I propose a truce. One honest conversation about – this. No games. What do you say?"

The silence stretched on, and Casey closed her eyes momentarily in defeat. "Fine," she said, looking away. "If you can't even" –

"You have five minutes," Derek interrupted. She stared at him for a moment, but his expression gave nothing away.

"Okay," she said. She took a deep breath, and pulled him over to the couch, motioned him to sit, and then picked up several notebook pages from the coffee table.

"You – have notes," he said. "Why am I not surprised? Will there be a slideshow later?"

Casey ignored him. She rustled her pages and began, clearing her throat. "Okay. I think we're both in agreement that this..." she gestured to him, and then back to herself, "is a mistake."

"Tell me about it," he muttered.

Casey took him at his word. "It's not just a mistake, it's a horrible, terrible, soul-destroying mistake of epic proportions. We're the cosmic punchline to some bizarre joke and" –

"Okay," Derek said, getting to his feet. "I said we could talk. I didn't say it could be boring."

Casey pushed him back down. "As I was saying. Despite the fact that we both..." she sighed and corrected herself, "well _I_, know better, we're still going ahead with this...thing."

Derek raised his eyebrows. "We are?"

"Do you have a better idea? I mean, ignoring it didn't work. Unless you have another suggestion..."

He was silent.

She continued, "In an attempt to control the inevitable damage, I have come up with some rules. Out of consideration for your limited mental capacities, I've kept them simple. Are you ready to hear them?"

"I'm ready to move to another country if it'll shut you up."

"Rule number one: for the duration of this mistake, you are not allowed to date other mistakes."

Derek looked at her blankly.

"That means no other girls," she clarified. She frowned at Derek, waiting for the expected reaction – it came, but much slower than she'd expected.

"...What?!" he said in outrage.

"Derek," she sighed patiently. "I am the mistake of a LIFETIME."

"No arguments here," he muttered.

"My point is, you won't even have _time_ to make any other mistakes."

He inclined his head to the side, apparently considering this.

"And honestly, how long do you see this lasting?"

"I don't," he said quickly.

"Exactly. It's like...the last cookie in the jar when you're on a diet. It only tastes so good because you know you're not allowed to have it."

"Okay – just like...hmmm – everything else, you're wrong about that. Cookies are always good."

She sighed. "Derek, you should be thinking of this as an educational opportunity. I know I am" –

"Okay," he said suddenly.

"What?" she said, having lost track of the conversation.

"Okay, I agree to rule number one."

Casey smiled in triumph.

"But," Derek continued, with a meaningful stare, "it applies to you too. Assuming, of course, you can find anyone 'special' enough to want to date you."

"Why Derek," she said, tone laden with fake sweetness, "I didn't know you cared."

"I don't," he said. "This is just...in the interest of fairness."

Their eyes caught and held for a long moment before Derek cleared his throat and said, "Anything else?"

"Um. Yes," Casey said, hurriedly consulting her pages again. "Just one more rule, actually."

Derek made a 'speed it up' gesture with his hand.

"This..." she motioned between them, "stays between us. We don't tell other people."

"You think I want other people to know?" Derek asked in amazement.

"Past experience suggests that you would stop at nothing to embarrass me," she said, crossing her arms.

"Well, yeah," he granted, "but you seem to forget that going out with Derek Venturi – you know, the popular hockey player, would be a huge boost to your reputation. On the other hand, if it became known that I was going out with you, my status would suffer a severe drop."

"And how do you come to that conclusion?" Casey asked. "From my perspective, I'm the one with everything to lose if this goes public."

"Look at you. You're...an achiever," Derek said, wrinkling his nose with disdain on the word 'achiever', as if it smelled bad. "People see us together... and instead of making the obvious assumption that you're with me for my hot bod and sexual magnetism" –

Casey snorted.

"...they look at the kind of girl you are – and they start thinking that I have – hidden depths. They start thinking that I...write poetry or – rescue kittens or something," Derek made a face. "It all translates to the social kiss of death."

"Wow. You really are full of it," she said. "Let me just tell you this – I don't care what the Neanderthals you hang around with, think of me. And if it did become public knowledge that we were...seeing each other, people higher up on the evolutionary ladder would start to doubt my intelligence and that is unacceptable."

"So neither of us wants to broadcast this," he pointed out.

"Good," Casey said. "I mean, I don't see this lasting long enough for that to even become an issue. I mean – how long do you give this? A week?"

Derek snorted. "_That_ is being really generous."

Casey cleared her throat and stood up, "Well, those are the rules, and since you seem to agree, I have drawn up a rough timetable" –

"Hold on there a minute, Space-Case," Derek said, holding out a hand, palm out. "Aren't you going to ask me if I have any conditions?"

She blinked for a second, but recovered quickly. "Fine. Do you?"

Derek got to his feet. "As a matter of fact, I do. One."

Casey gestured for him to continue, and he took a step closer, crowding into her space. "My condition is – you don't get to organise me into your tidy little schedule."

"Derek" - she began, only to get cut off.

"You don't get to timetable mistakes, and I don't work to schedule," he said. "Deal?"

Casey looked at her notes, then slowly dropped them onto the coffee table.

"Deal," she agreed, and stuck out her hand. Derek looked down at it.

Several heated minutes later, Casey tore her lips away from Derek's. Trying to regain poise and control, she smoothed her hair, and said, as casually as she could, "You know...usually a handshake is considered sufficient to seal a deal."

"I won't tell if you won't," the Biggest Mistake of Casey MacDonald's life said.


End file.
